


A Very Brief Encounter

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, definitely not getting together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is pissed. So is Bela.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Brief Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mzsparkles](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mzsparkles).



> Written as a Christmas present for the ever so lovely mzsparkles who gave the prompt “angry sex”.
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2009.

Bela smiled at the bar tender and he started making her up another cocktail without her having to ask. Wearing a slinky black dress that wrapped around her body and gave her breasts a helpful lift and a long red wig on her head she was attracting a lot of attention. Just not the sort she wanted. The guy across from her, the one with the magical amulet in his pocket, still hadn’t turned her way. She was beginning to think she was going to have to resort to stealing it from his hotel room to get at it. And where would be the fun in that?

She curled her delicately manicured hands around the stem of her glass and took a small sip, her eyes never leaving the slumped form of her prey. So intent was she on trying to catch his eye that she didn’t spot the man that slipped up behind her until he had put his hand on her back. She tensed for a moment and then planted a sickly sweet smile on her face; she needed to get rid of this idiot, fast. Her present employer wouldn’t be impressed if she didn’t come home with the goods this time.

“Let me buy you another drink,” the man told her before she could turn around, and her smile turned to a scowl.

“Dean?” she hissed.

“Bela?” Dean asked, equally surprised. Then his expression turned much colder and Bela shifted a little on her stool. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Working. So if you don’t mind.” She tried to slip off the stool but Dean grabbed her wrists and, since she didn’t particularly want to draw too much attention to herself right now, she let him keep her in place.

“Working on what?”

“I really don’t see think that is any of your business.” She looked up in time to see her mark leaving, and taking the amulet with him. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” She turned back to Dean and pulled her arm away from him, nearly toppling herself off the stool as she did so. “Thanks for nothing.”

“You’ve got the nerve to be mad at _me?_ After all the stunts you’ve pulled?”

Bela started to leave, slipping off the stool in one easy motion, grabbing tight hold of her bag and stalking away from the bar. Dean watched incredulously and then started to follow her.

“Hey, I’m not finished with you.”

Bela turned around and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Well I’m done with you. You Winchesters are nothing but amateurs.”

“Amateurs? Amateurs? You’ve got a…”

“Hey,” the bartender called, “there going to be any trouble here?”

Dean turned back to wave his reassurances that everything was just fine thank you very much, which gave Bela just enough time to disappear. But Dean had spotted something on the floor by her stool and wasn’t about to let her slip out of his grasp another time.

#####

Bela was standing outside her hotel room door, rooting around her bag for her keycard. She knew it had to be in there. She was certain that she’d seen it at the bar when she’d paid for her drink…

“Damn it,” she muttered. She turned around, settling on having to go back to the bar to retrieve it, but instead she found herself pressed back against the door, Dean’s arms on either side of her head, one of his legs pushing up against hers so she couldn’t move.

“Missing something?” he asked. She turned her head to the right and could see that he had her keycard in his hand. “That’s exactly the kind of sloppiness I would expect, from an _amateur._ ”

Bela turned back to him with a scowl, which quickly changed to a smile. Before Dean had a chance to brace himself for whatever trick she might have up her sleeve, she kissed him.

It was hard and dirty but Dean hadn’t got laid in long enough for him not to give a damn.

He moved her along and opened the door with her keycard before throwing it and her bag onto the floor of her room and slamming the door shut with his foot. Bela kept on kissing him, her arms lacing around his neck, her fingers tugging half-painfully at his hair. He shifted so that she was up against the door again, and she gasped into his mouth as hands drifted up her legs and in one forceful motion pulled her panties down around her ankles.

“Do you have…anything,” she panted.

“Back pocket,” Dean replied with a growl. He started nibbling at her neck, leaving marks that would no doubt be purplish bruises in the morning. For now she didn’t care, just didn’t want him to stop.

She slid down a little, using his legs as leverage and removed the condom packet from his back pocket and then she reached up and pulled her wig off, dropping it to the floor; the damned thing had been itching all night.

Dean then hefted her up, hands tight around her waist and they managed to manoeuvre themselves so that Bela could pull Dean’s trousers and boxers down and then he was kissing her again, lowering her feet to the floor so that he could take the condom from her and put it on.

Bela gasped as Dean slid inside, no warning, just such cocky confidence that she wouldn’t complain, that she would just let him fuck her. And god help her but she really would.

She let her head fall back as he thrust into her, harder and harder and she pushed back, her nails digging into his back as she snaked them under his T-shirt. He growled in response and she started to laugh.

“God, Dean, is that all you’ve got in you?”

Dean huffed a sarcastic laugh. “You’re really a piece of work, you know that? How about this, that what you want?”

She yelped as Dean ripped open her shirt and started harshly fondling her breasts while also kicking her legs further apart so he could slip in even deeper inside her. She scratched him even harder, knowing that her nails were starting to draw blood and not caring. How dare he mess up one of her jobs? _Again._

“Fuck, yes,” she cried as she came, her whole body spasming around Dean, her eyes falling back into her head. And she kept on twitching and moaning as Dean kept on fucking her, his body like fire against her sensitive flesh until he was coming too and she was able to roughly push him away.

They both sank, sated and dirty, to the floor.

“We never, ever, tell anyone about this,” Dean murmured. His breathing was just about returning to normal now and his legs had stopped aching enough that he could start to get dressed.

“ _Please,_ ” Bela retorted, “I have a reputation to upkeep.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped over her. He waited for her to get out of the way of the door before he opened it and slipped outside, not bothering to look back.

Bela stood up and went over to the mini-bar, making herself a gin and tonic and taking a refreshing gulp before she wandered over to her bag and picked it up. She finished off her drink and put the empty glass down next to the bed before emptying the contents over the bed. She rooted around in the junk until she found the tape recorder she’d switched on when she’d realised Dean had been following her.

Once she was sure that it had recorded everything, she smiled lazily to herself. “Now, now, I wonder what Sam will say when I send this to him?” she murmured.

And with the feeling that tomorrow was going to be a lot of fun, indeed, she wandered into the bathroom, determined to wash Dean Winchester right out of her hair.


End file.
